


Contrarily Blue

by rin0rourke



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rin0rourke/pseuds/rin0rourke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They prayed for rain, but could they handle the storm?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calm Before the Storm

It was a hot and humid summer day, to a college boy the season was sacred as the holy sabath, but at the moment it felt like purgatory. The air was thick and stagnant, poignant with moisture, and his peice of shit car was stingy with its airconditioner. So he was babying it, had the windows rolled down and endured the thick hot soup that sloshed inside when he managed to get up to more than five miles per hour.

Yu Kanda faught and so far won his battle with the tiny narrow dirt roads leading down from the isolated village and equally isolated camp site his people were calling temporary home and towards the bigger city miles away. The pretty little silver Ford Taurus was not made for backwoods roads, but so far she held up well enough. Why he had gotten the sleek little car while studying in the crowded streets of Tokyo had less to do with actual transportation and more to do with being able to actually say he owned a car. That it was a foreign car was a big bonus.

Hindsight, he should have left his pretty little fourth-hand car and borrowed the jeep, or the truck, or just fucking walked. But none of those options had a back seat, or tinted windows, or air conditioner, even a temperamental one, and all three of those things were needed for the goal he was working towards.

That goal, or a main factor of it, was sitting in his passenger talking away, elbow on the rolled down window, long elegant fingers resting on the chicken stick.

More than a week home and Kanda was still struck at how much the younger man had changed. The sexual tug low in his gut wasn't unfamiliar, at the wizened age of nineteen he had experienced a variety of eye opening and awkward lusts, but it was a big difference feeling them for someone he had until this point seen as little more than a toddler.

The thing was, Kanda had always shrugged him off as Cross' s annoying little tow along, unnervingly polite and impossibly naive, who wouldn't survive a single day outside of middle class Europe. He had firmly held the belief that the brat needed to be dumped back into whatever British schoolhouse Cross had hauled him out of.

It had been with some suprise and interest that he had driven up nine days ago to find that apparently someone had finally gotten around to bashing his cherubic little face in with the puberty stick.

So he was in his car, in shorts several inches above customarily male, contemplating the steps necessary to convince his chatty passenger to join him in the back seat, where he would finally utilize the temperature controls and the tinted windows and the fantastic rear suspension.

"I was really suprised to find it was such a joke. It's actually incredibly dangerous, sometimes people get injured, even killed, doing the tricks. So I figured if I was going to spend a few months in America for school I'd try out right? Well it turns out in spite of my years of circus experience the boys are almost never involved in any actual stunts. The boys are the "tossers", and believe me I made use the double meaning every chance I got after I didn't make the squad, can you believe they actually call it a squad? Anyway the boys are the tossers, the girls are the 'tossees.' Well technically they're called 'fliers' but that's mental because they don't actually fly, okay? They're **tossed** , but they call them fliers. Might be similar in the UK but I never went to high school in the UK, did you know America calls their state funded schools public schools? I didn't. Anyway, I did some of my more impressive tricks but since I lacked the upper body strength to toss someone I didn't get in. When is stupid, and I told them so, and I called them names, not out loud of course thats rude, but in my head. I felt bad about that later when one of the girls fell and broke her collarbone.

"Which brings up the science lab accident I saw! Actually, okay no it doesn't, they are in no way connected, but it did remind me."

 

God, talk talk talk, did the kid ever shut up. He had better be a really excellent lay to have to endure all this nonsense.

He didn't actually think he'd get much resistance when he broached the idea, but it was time consuming finding the right moment to do so. It had been no secret the kid had a crush on him for years, though he figured the boy would like to convince himself he was discrete, teenagers never were. Still it was a precarious hop on a slipery stone between innocent crush and backseat interlude. It helped that he was driving, that way if he fucked up royal the first time bringing it up he could try again after the skinny little beanstalk cooled down.

An hour is a long time alone in a tiny car with your childhood crush, who is now showing interest in you.

Short term purely sexual interest, but the kid didn't really need to know that. Besides he could play it like a long distance thing. Maybe have some fun on school breaks when he was out in bumfuck with his stupid family and the pickings were slim. Too damn bad all they had in way of privacy back at camp were tents, and his was shared with a fucking new guy, some green asshole with a doctorate named Krory who was apparently a big financial backer wanting in on the field work. Otherwise he would have tested ground a bit more boldly. As it was he was barely ever left alone, between his childhood friends, by force of proximity instead of his own choice, and family he had been lucky to use the can without someone insisting on tagging along.

Would have been better from the beginning if he had just ignored the change, forced himself to see him as the scrawny preteen he always did. Would have been better still if Allen fucking Walker had given the impression of absolute disinterest. But no… That leap in growth hadn't hindered his little boy crush, Kanda's eyes followed Allen through the camp, and he saw the boy's own gaze slide towards him, enormous white grey eyes that used to take up half his stupid face and annoyed the fuck out of Kanda, now they made his juices swim.

So with a stingy two days left before his trip back he snatched up supply run duty with the Beansprout, and firmly, thoroughly, booted Lavi and Lenalee out of the party.

About as subtle as Chernobyl.

He **never**  volunteered for supply run, he couldn't say why he was doing so now, when a man didn't like to mix with people what rational excuse was there to mix with them? He could only blame the crazy impulse on hormones bottled up so tight from nine days sexual frustration, and he really didn't care how obvious he was being to any of them at this point.

"Nice day," Allen said with a sigh. If the idiot considered this 'nice' he was stupider than Kanda originally thought, "looks like we may just get that rain." When all he got was a grunt as response he continued undaunted, "This conversation thing is tough for you, I realize, so I'll make it easier and ask why you dragged me of all people down into town with you?"

That suprised him, not that he let it show. He might have to add a few points back onto the asshole's IQ for that. "Figure," Kanda said after a moment of thought, wouldn't hurt to smooth the way with a line or two, "if I'm stuck in a hot car for an hour with anybody, it might as well be you."

"Huh. Odd."

He let that alone a moment, but it irritated him too damn much. "Why?"

"Because I don't believe you've done more than growl and curse at me in the four years we've known eachother."

"That's a fucking lie." Wasn't it?

"You've always been mean to me, but you're mean to everyone so I didn't take it to heart."

"I just don't want people fucking bugging me, all you ever did was tag along and get in the way." Were they arguing? Were they really fucking arguing? Maybe there was a reason they didn't interact much.

"This isn't tagging along?"

"If you get in my way out here I'm dumping you out the car."

"I'll keep that in mind - Oh!" Allen let out a laughing sound of pleasure and leaned over, gripped Kanda's thigh, pointed out the windshield. "See! Did you see?" Argument and iritation forgotten. A ball of heat kindled direct center in his body and his vision doubled, so no, he hadn't seen, but the hand firm on his leg he was very much aware of. "Wow. I realize I should be used to it, but wow. Can you believe it? Right over the road. Balls or arrogance?"

"What was it?" Hand still on his thigh, shorts rode up in the car, warm hand on his bare thigh. Did he think the past week was torture? It was **basic**   **fucking training**.

"What? You didnt see the Gibon? Big black one? Bent the tree like a bow.

"Nope. Missed it." He said through his teeth. Don'tgetaboner dontgetaboner.

Allen gave his thigh a light smack with a mock pouty whine, "How could you miss it? Sucks to be you. God. I love these trees. We were in Borneo last month, got some great shots of the Orangutans and Mikacks, but I saw a clouded leopard."

"You did not." Noone would have shut up about that if it had happened.

"I did." He sighed lustily, "didn't snap a picture, it was early morning, and I was utilising the toilet. It was perched on a branch a few yards ahead of me. Right where I walked to come from camp. I swear I probably walked right under it."

"Give you a good kick?"

"Better than coffee. Of course I never told Cross, wouldn't have believed me."

Kanda thought about that a moment. "Cat would have left marks, tracks. Easy enough to prove."

"And I could have spotted them, made it up." He slumped back into his seat, but the pout was still mostly fake. "Best idea was to keep it to myself. Avoid the remarks."

"Coss has them a plenty so as far as ideas go that one didnt suck."

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere but you dropped it. Give me a moment, let me search the floor."

"You're hilarious. "

"Oh, see? Guess you found it."

He might have brought up the whole backseat 'lets get partially, and if your enthusiastic enough mostly, naked and see if that puberty stick hit all of you' but the trees were thinning and there was foot traffic on the road now. He honestly didn't know the policy here in Thailand for passing locals spotting the vague outlines of two males getting it on in the backseat. So he would table it for the return trip.

Fingers crossed.


	2. Thunderstruck

Coffee

It was the first need to flop out of the ocean of sleep and writhe desperately in his mind. With a groan he turned over and crawled his way out of his bed, a shipwrecked survivor dragging himself out of the water.

Why was coffee in the kitchen? Why didn’t he have a coffeemaker in his bedroom? Because society said coffee goes in kitchen and he obeyed like a placid dipshit.  He was good at being an obedient dipshit. Left over from his years as a child soldier. Had the Sanskrit brand on his chest to remind him. Was it some type of plot to get coffee drinkers out of bed? Having to go all the way into the kitchen? If he had fucking coffee in his room he would have no problems getting out of bed. That’s what coffee was fucking **for**.

Fuck the insurgency, coffee will go where he damn well put it.

Out of bed now, you win this round societal dictation of coffee placement, but behind coffee wriggled other needs so he detoured to the bathroom and cursed the world in general as he stood over the toilet. Could probably put a coffee maker in here. There was an outlet and a sink and even room on the counter. The water was the same as the kitchen, and it wasn’t like his bathroom was dirty. Much. His cleaning service quit again but he was a grown ass adult and knew how to weild a toilet brush.

As he washed his hands the mirror reflected a proven image of his adulthood. No longer a slim pretty boy teenager, staring down twenty and still gangly from adolescence no matter how many hours a day he trained. He was still lean, still more pretty then ruggedly handsome, but his shoulders were wide and his jaw was squared and his muscles were more than adequate. At 29 he now stared down twenty from the opposite end, with middle finger raised and a kiss-my-ass farewell.

He considered shaving, but ranked that as below coffee, and took his cranky ass self to the kitchen for caffeinated therapy.

He stepped from hard wood to sandy stone tile and got a jolt. There were pans on the stove, he didn’t leave pans on the stove, ingredients on the counter, he sure as hell didn’t leave those out, bowls and cooking utensils beside them. On the granite island were plates, cups, forks, in romantic little duos. The smell of food and coffee, which was already in a full pot and had likely been the subconscious kickstart to his desperate need, filled the room.

And there, standing beside the stove poking a fork at sizzling bacon was a man with slim build, white hair, and a great ass.

His mind was momentarily lost, had he wandered into one of his more prurient dreams? No, he didn’t remember any fantasies involving breakfast, or him standing brick stupid in antient boxers hanging low on his hips.

And sick as it sometimes was, he hadn’t ever imagined Allen all grown up. The last time they saw eachother had been, what? Seven years ago? South America,  Cross and Tiedoll teamup to document turtle nesting, ended up with some decent shots of a jaguar. Kanda had considered himself lucky the little pest had bussied himself in the jungle the whole trip, and not just because they had never gotten around to that backseat love tryst and the attraction had far from burned itself out of his blood.

He hoped it was who he thought it was because an old man did not deserve an ass like that.

The occupant of his kitchen and raider of his fridge turned with a sunny smile. “Morning Kanda. Hope you don’t mind me making breakfast. Coffee is on, want me to pour you a cup?”

In his caffeine deprived state he had actually forgotten about his visitor. Guest. Temporary tenant of his living room couch.

Allen Walker was here because there was a wolf pack being transplanted from an area where poor hunting and shrinking territory had forced them onto farms and ranches, making them a nuisance to residents which led most usually to the animals’ death.

Since the woodlands around here were privately owned and protected the Beansprout had worked with environmentalists to convince the joint owners to reintroduce wolves, this pack in particular. 

And since it was a no trespassing area there would be no base camp, no preliminary setting up, until 72 hours before the wolves were transported and released.

Which put Kanda in the hot seat when his adoptive “father” called asking if he could give his “childhood friend” a room.

Remembering it brought the irritation back, and tugging at the worn elastic of his only clothing Kanda stalked into his kitchen and poured himself a cup of his own damn coffee.

“Made yourself at home, did you?” He snarled after the first hit gave him back partial use of his brain.

“I believe the rules you laid down were to stay out of your room and out of your way.” The pale man flitted like a ghost from stove to counter, sliding bacon expertly from pan to a folded napkin in a plastic pasta strainer. “You made no mention of fridge or kitchen. Besides, I was hungry.”

Kanda gave a low growl, should have told him to stay out of all and any of his shit. Hindsight.

“I do wonder if the wolves will make a similar noise.” An amused smile overtook the morning person grin. “Here I thought your conversation skills couldn’t deteriorate any further, living alone has done nothing helpful for you verbal wise.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Love to, but I have work in an hour and it’s a forty minute drive.” His banter hadn’t eased off, but the view of him in knee length kahki shorts and a sleeveless top almost made it worth it. “Well, breakfast is there if you want it, I already ate, if not just put it in the fridge, I’ll make a wrap of it when I get back.” He turned off the stove, placed the hot pans towards the back, and dumped everything else in the soapy water that filled the sink, all while carrying on his one-sided conversation. “I’m going to be in town most of the morning, paperwork, permits, and soothing the feathers of this local animal rights group who think "conservation” means preserving everything like a photograph.“

"Whackjobs.”

“Seconded.” He opened the freezers, made disaproving noises. Kanda imagined Allen could hear his teeth grinding. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

A visiting childhood acquaintance that didn’t rummage through his shit or jump start his libido would be nice. Barring that, he could think of more than a few **needs**  Allen could take care of. They could do real justice to the expensive stone tile of his kitchen floor.

“No.” Was all he said. Growled. Whichever.

“Suit yourself. Be back by five, seven at the latest. Don’t throw my things away and lock me out please?” He was out the door before Kanda could answer.

Fast mover. Kanda set his jaw and stared at the closed door. It annoyed him, the way the man just made himself at home. Annoyed him further that after almost ten years the physical attraction had not subsided.

His shitty luck, deciding not to follow through, not exactly his fault though. He hadn’t exactly intended to develop some kind of respect for what should have been the object of a transient lust.

Pissed him off is what it did. And now he was stuck with the man for more than a month.

“Asshole.” He decided, resigned to the miserable weeks ahead. The Beansprout was an asshole.


End file.
